It's a Very Special Night
by Trampy Mouse
Summary: ONESHOT. Wrote this aaaaagggeees ago and didn't upload for some odd reason. Basically it's fluff. Dave and Georgia are together and grown up. It's set about 10 years after the books.


**Just a soppy little oneshot which I wrote a while back and for some reason never uploaded. It's total fluff, really.**

**Georgia and Dave are togevs and are grown up, btw. Set about 9/10 years on from the books. Starts when Georgia comes in from work.**

**It's a Very Special Night**

_**Saturday, November 6th**_

_**5.30pm**_

It started to rain as soon as I stepped out the car. Typico. I think Big G must really hate me. I slave my botty off for the good of human kind and is this the thanks I get? Ok, I work in Top Shop, but human kind does need clothing. Otherwise they would be running around in their nuddy pants. Oo-er. Cosmic Horn akimbo.

It took me a squillion years to open the door. Why do I have so many keys? What are they for? As usual, I will be the last to know.

I stepped in the house and was immediately grabbed from behind. Gadzooks! It was dark and I thought the house was being robbed and they were assault and battery-ing me. Oh my Giddy God!

And then my attacker kissed my neck.

I said, "Dave! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

He said, "Don't I give you one anyway? I am Jack the Biscuit after all," and sort of nuzzled my neck for a bit. He is sweet. Although annoying to the extreme.

He said, "Right-o, Miss Sex Kitty, get yourself upstairs and tart yourself up. We are going out,"

I said, turning around, "Why? Where are we going?" and then I noticed what he was wearing, "Dave, why are you wearing a tux?"

He kissed my forehead, "Kittykat, you asked too many questions, just go along with the flow. Go up stairs and get dressed. And get dressed decently; I've made the effort,"

"But why?"

"Tonight's a very special night,"

"But _why_?"

"Get up those stairs!" and he chased me up the stairs. Good Grief.

_**2 minutes later**_

I wonder where we are going?

_**5 minutes later**_

I suppose I should go for a more elegant look, seeing as Dave is wearing a tux. Why in the names of giddy god's pyjamas is he wearing a tux? I hope he is not going to become the Godfather. _Merde_.

I looked through my wardrobe for something vair, vair sophis with a topping of maturiosity.

_**8 minutes later**_

I found a little red dress. It's sophisicosity personified although a little on the short side. It has a marvy corset-style ribbing in it. Although I have also got a black and silver gorgey little number. Which has a fabby flowing skirty bit. Like a Spanish flamenco dancer's.

Hmmm.

Well I am not going through the 'what to wear' situation type fandango again. Dave is waiting downstairs for me and I am really nervy and het up about where he is taking me. I will wear the red one.

_**1 minute later**_

Actually, it's a bit too short and Dave said dress decently.

I will wear the black one.

_**30 seconds later**_

But I look like I am going to meet her Maj in that.

Red one

_**2 minutes later**_

Black one. I have that song in my head by the Sugar Babes. Red Dress. I don't mean I am going to wear the red dress, I mean that is the name of the song. If you know what I mean and I think you do.

_**1 minute later**_

Actually, I think I _will_ wear the red dress.

No, the black one.

Red. Black. Red. Black. Oh my Giddy God's Pantyhose!!

I am just prancing around in my knick knacks and bra now. Maybe I should go like this. No, that is mad. And I would get arrested.

Dave knocked on the door, "Gee? Are you done?"

I said, "Not quite yet, Dave,"

He said, "What, are you fussing about make up? Just go _au natural_. You look fine without make up. Your conk isn't that big,"

Oh, lovely. Talking about my nose like that.

I said, "I haven't even started my make up, as it happens. I am in my undercrackers,"

So of course Dave walked in.

He said, looking at me like a seeing-eye dog then raising his eyebrows, "Lace, Georgia? You cheeky minx!"

"Dave, just shut up and help me choose an outfit. I don't know whether to wear this red dress or this black one,"

He did imaginary beard stroking and said, "The red one, deffo,"

I said, "What? You don't mind it's shortness, do you? Isn't it a bit tarty?"

Dave said, "When do you ever look anything less than tarty, Kittykat? Doesn't matter what you wear. Just because you can dress a leopard up in sheep jim-jams, doesn't stop you from seeing it's a leopard does it?" What is he talking about? He carried on, "What ever you wear _you_ make _it_ look tarty. But I like it, in a naughty-type of way. Now, get it on before your lacey knickers make me change my mind about going out!"

He is such a cheeky cat! And is he saying I am a tart. Maybe he should take a look at himself.

I said, as I put the dress on, "Are you calling me a tart? Maybe you should look at yourself, mister,"

He said, "I do actually, and I see a biscuit. Called Dave the Biscuit,"

"You are very over confident, you are lucky I love you, now can you do the zip up at the back?"

He came over and zipped up the dress for me. And then he sort of draped his arms around my waist from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder. And then I felt him turn his head so he was all nuzzled in my hair. I think he was smelling it. I hope it smelled nice. I could feel his breath on my ear. It was a bit tickly actually. Well, more than a bit tickly. It was A LOT tickly, that is how tickly it was. And then I had a kind-of twitch because of how vair, vair tickly it was and we both went tumbling backwards onto the bed.

I said, "Sorry, that was really tickly and I had a nervous twitch,"

Dave said, "Nervous twitch? You do talk a lot of nonsense, Georgia; you are one in a million,"

"One in a million?"

"Yes, they don't make loons like you very often,"

And we just lay there; giggling like a couple of loons on loon tablets until Dave suddenly sat up (bear in mind I was on top of him so I went flying) and said, "Oh, God. It's nearly six already. The table is booked for half-six,"

"Table?"

"Never you mind. You just get ready. I'll go call the taxi bods,"

Taxi? Oh Poo. What makes you think it is going to be a drinking night. Maybe I shouldn't wear the red dress. It is _trés_ short after all.

_**6.1**__**5pm**_

"Gee! Get your nungas down here. Taxi,"

"Coming,"

And I pranced down the stairs as quick like two short quick things. Well, as my kitten-heels would let me anyway.

Dave was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, looking gorgey-porgy in his tux. He wolf whistled and said, "You look spectacular, Kittykat,"

I said, "Fanks. Not too tarty then?"

Dave said, "Always Gee, always,"

"Really? Should I change?"

Dave obviously realised I was worried because he said, "Oh, Gee. I am just messing with you. You look lovely, in an elegant, sex-on-legs type way,"

I gave him my don't-even-bother look but followed him into the taxi.

_**6.30**__**pm**_

Dave took me into the poshest and most expensive looking restaurant I have ever seen. It was all couply –type tables, with red roses in the middle and candles. _Trés_ Romantico. He can be so soppy sometimes.

It looked like her Maj would go here. I had an overwhelming urge to start talking like I was out of Pride and Prejudice. I understand why we are dressed like trussed up turkeys. Well, Dave is anyway. Oh _Merde_. I felt like the Whore of Babylon. I wish he'd told me we were poshing it out tonight. I should have worn the black dress…

I said, "I wish you'd told me we were coming here. I feel like the Whore of Babylon in this red dress,"

Dave said, "What is wrong with the dress? I think you look stunning,"

"That is easy for you to say. You are dressed perfectly; you look bloody gorgeous by the way,"

"Why thank you, Kittykat. I do my best,"

"Dave, why are we here?"

He started smiling, "It's a very special night,"

I said, "Why?"

"All will be revealed shortly,"

He is sooo irritating.

Then the host said, "Can I help you?"

Dave told her we booked and she said, "Ah, of course, Sir. Ma'am," Dave looked shocked. I don't think he has ever been called 'sir' in his life, "Right this way,"

Dave recovered enough to say, "Actually, I need to organise something before I sit down, actually,"

The Host said, "Oh, of course, what might that be, sir?"

I said, "Yes, what is all this about, Dave?"

He said, "Go sit down, you nosy Kittykat,"

How lovely. The host escorted me to my seat. I felt like a bit of a goosegog sat on my own. I watched him from across the room. He was going talk, flirt, talk, talk, flirt, flirt, talk, flirt. Typico. And then he gave her something. A tip, perhaps? What for?

He came back, looking rather pleased with himself, "All sorted,"

"What is it?"

"Never you mind! What are you having to eat? We'll take the pants to town and go three courses. It is a very special night after all,"

"What in the name of pantyhose are you talking about? Special night? Why is tonight so special?"

He said, "Hahahaha,"

I think he has lost the plot completely.

_**2 minutes later**_

Still nice though.

_**45 minutes later**_

We finished our main course and waited for dessert. Which was a Sundae to share. Dave seems to be in a mad, _trés_ romantico mood. Usually when he is like this, I snog him to an inch of his life. But it doesn't seem right in such a posh place. _Merde_. I am going to get the ad-hoc puckering disease.

Dave said, "Do you know what happened today, ten years ago?"

I said, "Err…It was November 6th?"

He looked at me like I was mad and then he said, "It was when we had our first accidental snog,"

"Oh. So is that why tonight is so special?"

He said, "A tiny part of it, yes. But there is something a lot more special about tonight,"

"Blimey, so it is as special as two special things on special tablets?"

"Yep, and do you know what would make it even more special?"

"What?"

"Bubbly!"

What is he on about? As usual, I will be the last to know.

"Dave, why do you want Champagne?"

"It's a very special night,"

Of course.

And before I could stop him, he clicked his fingers at a near by 'Garçon' (as he calls them) and ordered Champers. Blimey O'Reily's Trousers.

_**3 minutes later**_

Dessert came and we kind of fed each other. It was vair, vair nice and sweet.

I said, as I fed him some Sundae, "Are you going to tell me why tonight is so special?"

He said, spooning out some Sundae for me, "Not yet. You'll realise in a minute though,"

I waited for him to feed me the ice cream and then swallowed, so I wouldn't do a stupid, spraying ice cream over the table fandango. Then I said, "You are really annoying, do you know that?"

"I am deffo out doing myself this time though," He sounded a bit nervy.

The Champers arrived.

I said, "But you are nice though. And vair, vair romantico. Do you want to crack open the Bubbly?"

Dave said, trying to stop a grin, "I think you should look at what is in your glass first,"

What?

I peered into my glass. And then I saw it.

A ring.

I looked at Dave in shock. He was smiling like a loon. And then he got up, walked around to my side of the table and dropped down onto one knee.

And then he said, "So, Miss Georgia Nicolson. How do you feel about becoming Mrs. Georgia the Laugh?"

**How sweet! Sorry, couldn't resist. I was just in one of those moods! I'm not a fan of fluff ( I Love Aggers, lol!) but sometimes you just can't help it!**


End file.
